De Camp On De
You 'member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up on de Cheval Gris,
W'ere we work so hard all winter, long ago you an' me?
Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all from our own paroisse,
An' only wan lef' dem feller is ourse'f an' Pierre Laframboise.
But Pierre can't see on de eye, Johnnie, I t'ink it's no good at all!
An' it wasn't for not'ing, you're gettin' rheumateez on de leg las' fall!
I t'ink it's no use waitin', for neider can come wit' me,
So alone I mak' leetle visit dat camp on de Cheval Gris.
An' if only you see it, Johnnie, an' change dere was all aroun',
Ev'ryt'ing gone but de timber an' dat is all fallin' down;
No sign of portage by de reever w'ere man dey was place canoe,
W'y, Johnnie, I'm cry lak de bebé, an' I'm glad you don't come, mon vieux!
But strange t'ing's happen me dere, Johnnie, mebbe I go asleep,
As I lissen de song of de rapide, as pas' de Longue Soo she sweep,
Ma head she go biz-z-z lak de sawmeel, I don't know w'at's wrong wit' me,
But firs' t'ing I don't know not'ing, an' den w'at you t'ink I see?
Yourse'f an' res' of de boy, Johnnie, by light of de coal oil lamp,
An' you're singin' an' tolin' story, sittin' aroun' de camp,
We hear de win' on de chimley, an' we know it was beeg, beeg storm,
But ole box stove she is roarin', an' camp's feelin' nice an' warm.
I t'ink you're on boar' of de raf', Johnnie, near head of Riviere du Loup,
W'en LeRoy an' young Patsy Kelly get drown comin' down de Soo,
Wall! I see me dem very same feller, jus' lak you see me to-day,
Playin' dat game dey call checker, de game dey was play alway!
An' Louis Charette asleep, Johnnie, wit' hees back up agen de wall,
Makin' soche noise wit' hees nose, dat you t'ink it was moose on de fall,
I s'pose he's de mos' fattes' man dere 'cept mebbe Bateese La Rue,
But if I mak fonne on poor Louis, I know he was good boy too!
W'at you do over dere on your bunk, Johnnie, lightin' dem allumettes,
Are you shame 'cos de girl she write you, is dat de las' wan you get?
It's fonny you can't do widout it ev'ry tam you was goin' bed,
W'y readin' dat letter so offen, you mus have it all on de head!
Dat's de very sam' letter, Johnnie, was comin' t'ree mont' ago,
I t'ink I know somet'ing about it, 'cos I fin' it wan day on de snow.
An' I see on de foot dat letter, Philomene she is do lak dis: * * *
I'm not very moche on de school, me, but I t'ink dat was mean de kiss.
Wall! nobody's kickin' de row, Johnnie, an' if allumettes' fini,
Put Philomene off on your pocket, an' sing leetle song wit' me;
For don't matter de hard you be workin' toujours you're un bon garçon,
An' nobody sing lak our Johnnie, Kebeck to de Mattawa!
An' it's den you be let her go, Johnnie, till roof she was mos' cave in,
An' if dere's firs' prize on de singin', Bagosh! you're de man can win!
Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an' he's feller can make it play,
So we're clearin' de floor right off den, for have leetle small danser.
An' w'en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I go de sam' bunk wit' you
W'ere we sleep lak two broder, an' dream of de girl on Riviere du Loup,
Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun' lak de boss Pelang,
'Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else you'll be late on de gang.'
An' den I am wak' up, Johnnie, an' w'ere do you t'ink I be?
Dere was de wood an' mountain, dere was de Cheval Gris,
But w'ere is de boy an' musique I hear only w'ile ago?
Gone lak de flower las' summer, gone lak de winter snow!
An' de young man was bring me up, Johnnie, dat's son of ma boy Maxime,
Say, 'Gran'fader, w'at is de matter, you havin' de bad, bad dream?
Come look on your face on de well dere, it's w'ite lak I never see,
Mebbe 't was better you're stayin', an' not go along wit' me.'
An' w'en I look down de well, Johnnie, an' see de ole feller dere,
I say on mese'f 'you be makin' fou Jeremie Chateauvert,
For t'ink you're garçon agen. Ha! ha! jus' 'cos you are close de eye,
An' only commence for leevin' w'en you're ready almos' for die!'
Ah! dat's how de young day pass, Johnnie, purty moche lak de t'ing I see,
Sometam dey be las' leetle longer, sam' as wit' you an' me,
But no matter de ole we're leevin', de tam she must come some day,
W'en boss on de place above, Johnnie, he's callin' us all away.
I'm glad I was go on de camp, Johnnie, I t'ink it will do me good,
Mebbe it's las' tam too, for sure, I'll never pass on de wood,
For I don't expec' moche longer ole Jeremie will be lef',
But about w'at I see dat day, Johnnie, tole nobody but yourse'f.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Johnnie Courteau
Johnnie Courteau of de mountain
Johnnie Courteau of de hill
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run
An'it's not very often you ketch heem still
Johnnie Courteau !
Ax dem along de reever
Ax dem along de shore
Who was de mos'bes'fightin'man
From Managance to Shaw-in-I-gan?
De place we're de great beeg rapide roar,
Johnnie Courteau !
Sam'tíng on ev'ry shaintee
Up on de Mekinac
Who was the man man walk de log,
W'en w'ole of de reever she's black wit'fog
An'carry de beeges'load on hees back?
Johnnie Courteau !
On de rapide you want to see heem
If de raf'she 's swingin'roun'
An'he 's yellin' 'Hooray Bateese! good
man!'
W'y de oar come double on hees han'
W'en he's makin' dat raf'go flyin'down
Johnnie Courteau !
An' Tête de Boule chief can tole you
De feller w'at save hees life
W'en beeg moose on de head, sapree!
An'den run off wit' hees Injun wife?
Johnnie Courteau !
An' he only have pike pole wit'heem
On Lac a la Tortue
W'en he meet de bear comin' down the hill
But de bear very soon is get hees fill!
An' he sole dat skin for ten dollar too,
Johnnie Courteau !
Oh he never was scare for not'ing
Lak de ole coureurs de bois,
But w'en he's getting'hees winter pay
De bes't'ing sure is kip out de way
For he's goin'right off on de Hip Hooraw!
Johnnie Courteau !
Den pullin'hees sash aroun'heem
He dance on hees botte sauvage
An'shout 'All aboar' if you want to fight!'
Wall! You never can see de finer sight
W'en he go lak dat on de w'ole village!
Johnnie Courteau !
But Johnnie Courteau get marry
On Philomene Beaurepaire
She's nice leetle girl was run de school
On w'at you call Parish of Sainte Ursule
An' he see her off on de pique-nique dere
Johnnie Courteau !
Den somet'ing come over Johnnie
W'en he marry on Philomene
For he stay on de farm de w'ole year roun'
He chop de wood an' he plough de ground'
An' he's quieter feller was never seen,
Johnnie Courteau !
An'ev'ry wan feel astonish
From La Tuque to Shaw-in-i-gan
W'en dey hear de news was goin' aroun'
Along on de reever up an' down
How wan leetle woman boss dat beeg man
Johnnie Courteau !
He never come out on de evening
No matter de hard we try
'Cos he stay on de kitchen an' sing hees song
'A la claire fontaine
M'en allant promener
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle
Que je m'y suis baigner
Lui y'a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'
Rockin' de cradle de w'ole night long
Till baby's asleep on de sweet bimeby
Johnnie Courteau !
An'de house, wall! I wish you see it
De place she's so nice an' clean
Mus'wipe your foot on de outside door,
You're dead man sure if you spit on de floor,
An' he never say not'ing on Philomene
Johnnie Courteau !
An' Philomene watch de monee
An' put it all safe away
On very good place; I dunno w'ere
But anyhow nobody see it dere
So she's buyin' new farm de noder day
MADAME Courteau !
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnnie's First Moose
De cloud is hide de moon, but dere's plain-
tee light above,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Move de paddle leetle quicker, an' de ole canoe
we'll shove
T'roo de water nice an' quiet
For de place we're goin' try it
Is beyon' de silver birch dere
You can see it lak a church dere
W'en we're passin' on de corner w'ere de lilly
flower grow.
Was n't dat correc' w'at I'm tolin' you jus
now?
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Never min', I'll watch behin'- me - an' you
can watch de bow
An' you'll see a leetle clearer
W'en canoe is comin' nearer-
Dere she is-now easy, easy,
For de win' is gettin' breezy,
An' we don't want not'ing smell us, till de
horn begin to blow-
I remember long ago w'en ma fader tak' me out,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Jus' de way I'm takin' you, sir, hello! was
dat a shout?
Seems to me I t'ink I'm hearin'
Somet'ing stirrin' on de clearin'
W'ere it stan' de lumber shaintee,
If it's true, den yuo'll have plaintee
Work to do in half a minute, if de moose don't
start to go.
An' now we're on de shore, let us hide de ole
canoe,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
An' lie among de rushes, dat's bes' t'ing we
can do,
For de ole boy may be closer
Dan anybody know, sir,
An' look out you don't be shakin'
Or de bad shot you'll be makin'
But I'm feelin' sam' way too, me, w'en I
was young, also-
You ready for de call? here goes for number
wan,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Did you hear how nice I do it, an' how it
travel on
Till ir reach across de reever
Dat'll geev' some moose de fever!
Wait now, Johnnie, don't you worry,
No use bein' on de hurry,
But lissen for de answer, it'll come before you
know.
For w'y you jomp lak dat? w'at's matter wit'
your ear?
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low-
Tak' your finger off de trigger, dat was only
bird you hear,
Can't you tell de pine tree crickin'
Or de boule frog w'en he's spikin' ?
Don't you know de grey owl singin'
From de beeg moose w'en he's ringin'
Out hees challenge on de message your ole
gran' fader blow?
You're lucky boy to-night, wit' hunter man
lak me!
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low-
Can tole you all about it! H-s-s-h! dat's
somet'ing now I see,
Dere he's comin' t'roo de bushes,
So get down among de rushes,
Hear heem walk! I t'ink, by tonder,
He mus' go near fourteen honder!
Dat's de feller I been watchin' all de evening,
I dunno.
I'll geev' anoder call, jus' a leetle wan or
two,
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head dwon
low-
W'en he see dere's no wan waitin' I wonder
w'at he'll do?
But look out for here he's comin'
Sa-pris-ti! ma heart is drummin'!
You can never get heem nearer
An' de moon is shinin' clearer,
W'at a fine shot you'll be havin'! now
Johnnie let her go!
Bang! bang! you got heem sure! an' he'll
never run away
Nor feed among de lily on de shore of Wes-
sonneau,
So dat's your firse moose Johnnie! wall! re-
member all I say-
Does n't matter w'at you 're chasin',
Does n't matter w'at you 're facin',
Only watch de t'ing you're doin'
If you don't, ba gosh! you 're ruin
An' steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head
down low.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Widow's Party
"Where have you been this while away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
'Long with the rest on a picnic lay,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They called us out of the barrack-yard
To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
And you can't refuse when you get the card,
And the Widow gives the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
"What did you get to eat and drink,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Standing water as thick as ink,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
A bit o' beef that were three year stored,
A bit o' mutton as tough as a board,
And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword,
When the Widow give the party.
"What did you do for knives and forks,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
And some was sliced and some was halved,
And some was crimped and some was carved,
And some was gutted and some was starved,
When the Widow give the party.
"What ha' you done with half your mess,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
They ate their whack and they drank their fill,
And I think the rations has made them ill,
For half my comp'ny's lying still
Where the Widow give the party.
"How did you get away -- away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
I comed away like a bleedin' toff,
For I got four niggers to carry me off,
As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough,
When the Widow give the party.
"What was the end of all the show,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"
Ask my Colonel, for ~I~ don't know,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
We broke a King and we built a road --
A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed.
And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed
When the Widow give the party.
(~Bugle~: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Windigo
Go easy wit' de paddle, an' steady wit' de
oar
Geev rudder to de bes' man you got among
de crew,
Let ev'ry wan be quiet, don't let dem sing no
more
W'en you see de islan' risin' out of Grande
Lac Manitou
Above us on de sky dere, de summer cloud
may float
Aroun' us on de water de ripple never show,
But somet'ing down below us can rock de
stronges' boat,
W'en we 're comin' near de islan' of de
spirit Windigo!
De carcajou may breed dere, an' otter sweem
de poole
De moosh-rat mak' de mud house, an' beaver
buil' hees dam
An' beeges' Injun hunter on all de Tête de
Boule
Will never set hees trap dere from spring
to summer tam.
But he 'll bring de fines' presen' from upper
St. Maurice
De loup marin an' black-fox from off de
Hodson Bay
An' hide dem on de islan' an' smoke de pipe
of peace
So Windigo will help heem w'en he travel
far away.
We shaintee on dat islan' on de winter seexty-
nine
If you look you see de clearin' aroun' de
Coo Coo Cache,
An' pleasan' place enough too among de spruce
an' pine
If foreman on de shaintee is n't Cyprien
Palache.
Beeg feller, alway watchin' on hees leetle
weasel eye,
De gang dey can't do not'ing but he see dem
purty quick
Wit' hees 'Hi dere, w'at you doin' ?' ev'ry
tam he 's passin' by
An' de bad word he was usin' , wall! it offen
mak' me sick.
An' he carry silver w'issle wit' de chain aroun'
hees neck
For fear he mebbe los' it, an' ev'ry body say
He mus' buy it from de devil w'en he 's
passin' on Kebeck
But if it 's true dat story, I dunno how
moche he pay.
Dere 's plaintee on de shaintee can sing lak
rossignol
Pet Clancy play de fiddle, an' Jimmie Char-
bonneau
Was bring hees concertina from below St.
Fereol
So we get some leetle pleasure till de long,
long winter go.
But if we start up singin' affer supper on de
camp
'Par derriere chez ma tante,' or 'Mattawa
wishtay,'
De boss he 'll come along den, an' put heem
out de lamp,
An' only stop hees swearin' w'en we all go
marche coucher.
We 've leetle boy dat winter from Po-po-lo-be-
lang
Hees fader an' hees moder dey're bote
A-ben-a-kee
An' he 's comin' , Injun Johnnie, wit' some
man de lumber gang
Was fin' heem nearly starvin' above on Lac
Souris.
De ole man an' de woman is tryin' pass de Soo
W'en water 's high on spring tam, an' of
course dey 're gettin' drown',
For even smartes' Injun should n't fool wit'
birch canoe,
W'ere de reever lak toboggan on de hill is
runnin' down.
So dey lef' de leetle feller all alone away up
dere
Till lumber gang is ketchin' him an' bring
him on de Cache,
But better if he 's stayin' wit' de wolf an' wit'
de bear
Dan come an' tak' hees chances wit' Cyprien
Palache.
I wonder how he stan' it, w'y he never run
away
For Cyprien lak neeger he is treat heem all
de sam'
An' if he 's wantin' Johnnie on de night or on
de day
God help heem if dat w'issle she was below
de secon'tam!
De boy he don 't say not'ing, no wan never see
heem cry
He 's got de Injun in heem, you can see it
on de face,
An' only for us feller an' de cook, he 'll surely
die
Long before de winter 's over, long before
we lef' de place,
But I see heem hidin' somet'ing wan morning
by de shore
So firse tam I was passin' I scrape away de
snow
An' it 's rabbit skin he 's ketchin' on de swamp
de day before,
Leetle Injun Johnnie 's workin' on de spirit
Windigo.
December's come in stormy, an' de snow-dreef
fill de road
Can only see de chimley an' roof of our
cabane,
An' stronges' team on stable fin' it plaintee
heavy load
Haulin' sleigh an' two t'ree pine log t'roo
de wood an' beeg savane.
An' I travel off wan day me, wit' Cyprien
Palache
Explorin' for new timber, w'en de win' be-
gin to blow,
So we hurry on de snow-shoe for de camp on
Coo Coo Cache
If de nor' eas' storm is comin', was de bes'
place we dunno-
An' we 're gettin' safe enough dere wit' de
storm close on our heel,
But w'en our belt we loosen for takin' off de
coat
De foreman commence screamin' an' mon Dieu
it mak' us feel
Lak he got t'ree t'ousan' devil all fightin' on
hees t'roat.
Cyprien is los' hees w'issle, Cyprien is los' hees
chain
Injun Johnnie he mus' fin' it, even if de win'
is high
He can never show hese'f on de Coo Coo
Cache again
Till he bring dat silver w'issle an' de chain
it 's hangin' by.
So he sen' heem on hees journey never knowin'
he come back
T'roo de rough an' stormy wedder, t'roo de
pile of dreefin' snow
'Wat 's de use of bein' Injun if you can 't
smell out de track?'
Dat 's de way de boss is talkin' , an' poor
Johnnie have to go.
If you want to hear de musique of de nort' win'
as it blow
An' lissen to the hurricane an' learn de way
it sing
An' feel how small de man is w'en he 's
leevin' here below,
You should try it on de shaintee w'en she 's
doin' all dem t'ing!
W'at 's dat soun' lak somet'ing cryin' all
aroun' us ev'ryw'ere?
We never hear no tonder upon de winter
storm!
Dey 're shoutin' to each oder dem voices on
de air,
An' it 's red hot too de stove pipe, but no
wan 's feelin' warm!
'Get out an' go de woodpile before I freeze
to deat''
Cyprien de boss is yellin' an' he 's lookin'
cole an' w'ite
Lak dead man on de coffin, but no wan go,
you bet,
For if it 's near de woodpile, 't is n't close
enough to-night!
Non! we ain't afraid of not'ing, but we don 't
lak takin' chance,
An' w'en we hear de spirit of de wil' A-ben-
a-kee
Singin' war song on de chimley, makin' all dem
Injun dance
Raisin' row dere, you don't ketch us on no
woodpile -no siree!
O! de lonesome night we 're passin' w'ile
we 're stayin' on dat place!
An' ev'rybody sheever when Jimmie Char
bonneau
Say he 's watchin' on de winder an' he see de
Injun face
An' it 's lookin' so he tole us, jus' de sam'
as Windingo.
Den again mese'f I 'm hearin' somet'ing
callin', an' it soun'
Lak de voice of leetle Johnnie so I'm
passin' on de door
But de pine stump on de clearin' wit' de w'ite
sheet all aroun'
Mak' me t'ink of churchyar' tombstone, an'
I can't go dere no more.
Wat's de reason we 're so quiet w'ile our
heart she 's goin' fas'
W'y is no wan ax de question? dat we're
all afraid to spik?
Was it wing of flyin' wil' bird strek de winder
as it pass,
Or de sweesh of leetle snow-ball w'en de win'
is playin' trick?
W'en we buil' de Coo Coo shaintee, she's as
steady as a rock,
Did you feel de shaintee shakin' de sam,
she's goin' to fall?
Dere's somet'ing on de doorway! an' now we
hear de knock
An' up above de hurricane we hear de w'issle
call.
Callin', callin' lak a bugle, an' he's jompin' up
de boss
From hees warm bed on de corner an' open
wide de door-
Dere's no use foller affer for Cyprien is los'
An' de Coo Coo Cache an' shaintee he'll
never see no more.
At las' de morning's comin', an' storm is blow
away
An' outside on de shaintee young Jimmie
Charbonneau
He's seein' track of snowshoe, 'bout de size of
doulbe sleigh
Dere's no mistak' it's makin' by de spirit
Windigo.
An' de leetle Injuin Johnie, he's all right I
onderstan'
For you'll fin' heem up de reever above de
Coo Coo Cache
Ketchin' mink and ketchin' beaver, an' he's
growin' great beeg man
But dat's de las' we're hearin' of Cyprien
Palache.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnnie Comes Back
All last week and half of today
Johnnie has been a good little girl
Trying to keep her devils at bay
Watching her health return
But she always comes back for more
Hanging her head and banging my door
Johnnie comes back again
(chorus)
I said, johnnie remember
Oh johnnie be good
Please give me some medicine man
Oh johnnie comes back again
Whered she get that tear in her eye
Whoever said she could leave me
Whered she learn to say good-bye
Shes been watching too much t.v.
She only shows up for meals
My medicine chest and my automobiles
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
Me Im just an evil demon
Im playing on her weakness
Counting on her sickness
To bring her home again
To use me up and to rob me blind
I guess it shouldnt surprise me
Fighting and flashing like a fish on a line
My god, she must despise me
But she always comes back again
Now it wont be long til shes gone again
Johnnie comes back again
- chorus -
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Canadian Magpie
Mos' ev'ryman lak de robin
An' it's pleasan' for hear heem sing,
Affer de winter 's over
An' it 's comin' anoder spring.
De snow 's hardly off de mountain
An' it's cole too among de pine
But you know w'en he sing, de sout' win'
Is crowdin' heem close behin' .
An' mebbe you hear de grosbec
Sittin' above de nes'-
An' you see by de way he 's goin'
De ole man 's doin' hees bes'
Makin' de wife an' baby
Happy as dey can be-
An' proud he was come de fader
Such fine leetle familee.
De gouglou of course he 's nicer
Dan many bird dat fly,
Dunno w'at we do widout heem,
But offen I wonder w'y
He can't stay quiet a minute
Lak res' of de small oiseaux
An' finish de song he's startin'
Till whish! an' away he go!
Got not'ing to say agen dem,
De gouglou an' all de res'-
'Cept only dey lak de comfort,
An' come w'en it suit dem bes'-
For soon as de summer 's passin'
An' leaf is begin to fall-
You'll wálk t'roo de wood an' medder
An' never hear wan bird call.
But come wit' me on de winter
On place w'ere de beeg tree grow
De smoke of de log house chimley
Will tole you de way to go-
An' if you 're not too unlucky
De w'iskey jack dere you'll see
Flyin' aroun' de shaintee
An' dat was de bird for me.
You 'll mebbe not lak hees singin'
Dough it 's better dan not'ing too,
For affer he do hees bes', den
W'at more can poor Johnnie do?
It 's easy job sing on summer
De sam ' as de rossignol-
But out of door on de winter
Jus' try youse'f -dat 's all.
See heem dere, now he's comin'
Hoppin' an' hoppin' aroun'
W'en we start on de morning early
For work till de sun go down-
T'row heem hees piece of breakfas'
An' hear heem say 'merci bien',
For he's fond on de pork, ba golly!
Sam ' as de Canayen.
De noise of de axe don't scare heem
He stay wit' us all de day,
An' w'en he was feelin' lak' it
Ride home wit' de horse an' sleigh.
Den affer we reach de shaintee
He 's waitin' to see us back
Jompin' upon de log dere
Good leetle w'iskey lack!
So here 's to de bird of winter
Wearin' de coonskin coat,
W'enever it 's bird election
You bet he can get ma vote-
Dat 's way I be feel about it,
Voyageurs let her go today!
W'iskey jack, get ready, we drink you
Toujours à vot' bonne santé!
Baptême!
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Albani Sang
Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan
morning not long ago,
Feexin' de fence for winter--'cos dat's
w'ere we got de snow!
W'en Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come
over an' spik wit' me,
'Antoine, you will come on de city,
for hear Ma-dam All-ba-nee?'
'W'at you mean?' I was sayin' right off, me,
'Some woman was mak' de speech,
Or girl on de Hooraw Circus, doin' high
kick an' screech?'
'Non--non,' he is spikin'--'Excuse me,
dat's be Ma-dam All-ba-nee
Was leevin' down here on de contree, two
mile 'noder side Chambly.
'She's jus' comin' over from Englan', on
steamboat arrive Kebeck,
Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin'
beeg tam, I expec',
But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for
travel all roun' de worl',
Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here,
for she was de Chambly girl.
'She never do not'ing but singin' an' makin'
de beeg grande tour
An' travel on summer an' winter, so mus' be
de firs' class for sure!
Ev'ryboddy I'm t'inkin' was know her, an' I
also hear 'noder t'ing,
She's frien' on La Reine Victoria an' show
her de way to sing!'
'Wall,' I say, 'you're sure she is Chambly,
w'at you call Ma-dam All-ba-nee?
Don't know me dat nam' on de Canton--I hope
you're not fool wit' me?'
An' he say, 'Lajeunesse, dey was call her,
before she is come mariée,
But she's takin' de nam' of her husban'--I
s'pose dat's de only way.'
'C'est bon, mon ami,' I was say me, 'If I get
t'roo de fence nex' day
An' she don't want too moche on de monee den
mebbe I see her play.'
So I finish dat job on to-morrow, Jeremie he
was helpin' me too,
An' I say, 'Len' me t'ree dollar quickly for
mak' de voyage wit' you.'
Correc'--so we're startin' nex' morning, an'
arrive Montreal all right,
Buy dollar tiquette on de bureau, an' pass on
de hall dat night.
Beeg crowd, wall! I bet you was dere too, all
dress on some fancy dress,
De lady, I don't say not'ing, but man's all
w'ite shirt an' no ves'.
Don't matter, w'en ban' dey be ready, de foreman
strek out wit' hees steek,
An' fiddle an' ev'ryt'ing else too, begin for
play up de musique.
It's fonny t'ing too dey was playin' don't lak
it mese'f at all,
I rader be lissen some jeeg, me, or w'at you call
'Affer de ball.'
An' I'm not feelin' very surprise den, w'en de
crowd holler out, 'Encore,'
For mak' all dem feller commencin' an' try leetle
piece some more,
'Twas better wan' too, I be t'inkin', but slow
lak you're goin' to die,
All de sam', noboddy say not'ing, dat mean
dey was satisfy.
Affer dat come de Grande piano, lak we got on
Chambly Hotel,
She's nice lookin' girl was play dat, so of
course she's go off purty well,
Den feller he's ronne out an' sing some, it's
all about very fine moon,
Dat shine on Canal, ev'ry night too, I'm sorry
I don't know de tune.
Nex' t'ing I commence get excite, me, for I
don't see no great Ma-dam yet,
Too bad I was los all dat monee, an' too late
for de raffle tiquette!
W'en jus' as I feel very sorry, for come all
de way from Chambly,
Jeremie he was w'isper, 'Tiens, Tiens, prenez
garde, she's comin' Ma-dam All-ba-nee!'
Ev'ryboddy seem glad w'en dey see her, come
walkin' right down de platform,
An' way dey mak' noise on de han' den, w'y!
it's jus' lak de beeg tonder storm!
I'll never see not'ing lak dat, me, no matter
I travel de worl',
An' Ma-dam, you t'ink it was scare her? Non,
she laugh lak de Chambly girl!
Dere was young feller comin' behin' her, walk
nice, comme un Cavalier,
An' before All-ba-nee she is ready an' piano
get startin' for play,
De feller commence wit' hees singin', more
stronger dan all de res',
I t'ink he's got very bad manner, know not'ing
at all politesse.
Ma-dam, I s'pose she get mad den, an' before
anyboddy can spik,
She settle right down for mak' sing too, an'
purty soon ketch heem up quick,
Den she's kip it on gainin' an' gainin', till
de song it is tout finis,
An' w'en she is beatin' dat feller, Bagosh!
I am proud Chambly!
I'm not very sorry at all, me, w'en de feller
was ronnin' away,
An' man he's come out wit' de piccolo, an'
start heem right off for play,
For it's kin' de musique I be fancy, Jeremie
he is lak it also,
An' wan de bes' t'ing on dat ev'ning is man
wit' de piccolo!
Den mebbe ten minute is passin', Ma-dam she is
comin' encore,
Dis tam all alone on de platform, dat feller
don't show up no more,
An' w'en she start off on de singin' Jeremie say,
'Antoine, dat's Français,'
Dis give us more pleasure, I tole you, 'cos w'y?
We're de pure Canayen!
Dat song I will never forget me, 'twas song of
de leetle bird,
W'en he's fly from it's nes' on de tree top,
'fore res' of de worl' get stirred,
Ma-dam she was tole us about it, den start off
so quiet an' low,
An' sing lak de bird on de morning, de poor
leetle small oiseau.
I 'member wan tam I be sleepin' jus' onder some
beeg pine tree
An song of de robin wak' me, but robin he
don't see me,
Dere's not'ing for scarin' dat bird dere, he's
feel all alone on de worl',
Wall! Ma-dam she mus' lissen lak dat too, w'en
she was de Chambly girl!
Cos how could she sing dat nice chanson, de sam'
as de bird I was hear,
Till I see it de maple an' pine tree an' Richelieu
ronnin' near,
Again I'm de leetle feller, lak young colt upon
de spring
Dat's jus' on de way I was feel, me, w'en Ma-dam
All-ba-nee is sing!
An' affer de song it is finish, an' crowd is mak'
noise wit' its han',
I s'pose dey be t'inkin' I'm crazy, dat mebbe
I don't onderstan',
Cos I'm set on de chair very quiet, mese'f an'
poor Jeremie,
An' I see dat hees eye it was cry too, jus' sam'
way it go wit' me.
Dere's rosebush outside on our garden, ev'ry spring
it has got new nes',
But only wan bluebird is buil' dere, I know her
from all de res',
An' no matter de far she be flyin' away on
de winter tam,
Back to her own leetle rosebush she's comin
dere jus' de sam'.
We're not de beeg place on our Canton, mebbe
cole on de winter, too,
But de heart's 'Canayen' on our body, an'
dat's warm enough for true!
An' w'en All-ba-nee was got lonesome for
travel all roun' de worl'
I hope she 'll come home, lak de bluebird,
an' again be de Chambly girl!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Little Bateese
1 You bad leetle boy, not moche you care
2 How busy you 're kipin' your poor gran'pere
3 Tryin' to stop you ev'ry day
4 Chasin' de hen aroun' de hay--
5 W'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay?
6 Leetle Bateese!
7 Off on de fiel' you foller de plough
8 Den w'en you 're tire you scare the cow
9 Sickin' de dog till dey jomp the wall
10 So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all--
11 An' you 're only five an' a half dis fall,
12 Leetle Bateese!
13 Too sleepy for sayin' de prayer to-night?
14 Never min' I s'pose it 'll be all right
15 Say dem to-morrow--ah! dere he go!
16 Fas' asleep in a minute or so--
17 An' he 'll stay lak dat till de rooster crow,
18 Leetle Bateese!
19 Den wake us up right away toute suite
20 Lookin' for somet'ing more to eat,
21 Makin' me t'ink of dem long leg crane
22 Soon as dey swaller, dey start again,
23 I wonder your stomach don't get no pain,
24 Leetle Bateese!
25 But see heem now lyin' dere in bed,
26 Look at de arm onderneat' hees head;
27 If he grow lak dat till he 's twenty year
28 I bet he 'll be stronger dan Louis Cyr
29 An' beat all de voyageurs leevin' here,
30 Leetle Bateese!
31 Jus' feel de muscle along hees back,
32 Won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack
33 On de long portage, any size canoe,
34 Dere 's not many t'ing dat boy won't do
35 For he 's got double-joint on hees body too,
36 Leetle Bateese!
37 But leetle Bateese! please don't forget
38 We rader you 're stayin' de small boy yet,
39 So chase de chicken an' mak' dem scare
40 An' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere
41 For w'en you 're beeg feller he won't be dere--
42 Leetle Bateese!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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De Habitant
De place I get born, me, is up on de reever
Near foot of de rapide dat's call Cheval Blanc
Beeg mountain behin' it, so high you can't climb it
An' whole place she's mebbe two honder arpent.
De fader of me, he was habitant farmer,
Ma gran' fader too, an' hees fader also,
Dey don't mak' no monee, but dat isn't fonny
For it's not easy get ev'ryt'ing, you mus' know--
All de sam' dere is somet'ing dey got ev'ryboddy,
Dat's plaintee good healt', wat de monee can't geev,
So I'm workin' away dere, an' happy for stay dere
On farm by de reever, so long I was leev.
O! dat was de place w'en de spring tam she's comin',
W'en snow go away, an' de sky is all blue--
W'en ice lef' de water, an' sun is get hotter
An' back on de medder is sing de gou-glou--
W'en small sheep is firs' comin' out on de pasture,
Deir nice leetle tail stickin' up on deir back,
Dey ronne wit' deir moder, an' play wit' each oder
An' jomp all de tam jus' de sam' dey was crack--
An' ole cow also, she's glad winter is over,
So she kick herse'f up, an' start off on de race
Wit' de two-year-ole heifer, dat's purty soon lef' her,
W'y ev'ryt'ing's crazee all over de place!
An' down on de reever de wil' duck is quackin'
Along by de shore leetle san'piper ronne--
De bullfrog he's gr-rompin' an' doré is jompin'
Dey all got deir own way for mak' it de fonne.
But spring's in beeg hurry, an' don't stay long wit' us
An' firs' t'ing we know, she go off till nex' year,
Den bee commence hummin', for summer is comin'
An' purty soon corn's gettin' ripe on de ear.
Dat's very nice tam for wake up on de morning
An' lissen de rossignol sing ev'ry place,
Feel sout' win' a-blowin' see clover a-growin'
An' all de worl' laughin' itself on de face.
Mos' ev'ry day raf' it is pass on de rapide
De voyageurs singin' some ole chanson
'Bout girl down de reever--too bad dey mus' leave her,
But comin' back soon' wit' beaucoup d'argent.
An' den w'en de fall an' de winter come roun' us
An' bird of de summer is all fly away,
W'en mebbe she's snowin' an' nort' win' is blowin'
An' night is mos' t'ree tam so long as de day.
You t'ink it was bodder de habitant farmer?
Not at all--he is happy an' feel satisfy,
An' cole may las' good w'ile, so long as de wood-pile
Is ready for burn on de stove by an' bye.
W'en I got plaintee hay put away on de stable
So de sheep an' de cow, dey got no chance to freeze,
An' de hen all togedder--I don't min' de wedder--
De nort' win' may blow jus' so moche as she please.
An' some cole winter night how I wish you can see us,
W'en I smoke on de pipe, an' de ole woman sew
By de stove of T'ree Reever--ma wife's fader geev her
On day we get marry, dat's long tam ago--
De boy an' de girl, dey was readin' it's lesson,
De cat on de corner she's bite heem de pup,
Ole 'Carleau' he's snorin' an' beeg stove is roarin'
So loud dat I'm scare purty soon she bus' up.
Philomene--dat's de oldes'--is sit on de winder
An' kip jus' so quiet lak wan leetle mouse,
She say de more finer moon never was shiner--
Very fonny, for moon isn't dat side de house.
But purty soon den, we hear foot on de outside,
An' some wan is place it hees han' on de latch,
Dat's Isidore Goulay, las' fall on de Brulé
He's tak' it firs' prize on de grand ploughin' match.
Ha! ha! Philomene!--dat was smart trick you play us
Come help de young feller tak' snow from hees neck,
Dere's not'ing for hinder you come off de winder
W'en moon you was look for is come, I expec'--
Isidore, he is tole us de news on de parish
'Bout hees Lajeunesse Colt--travel two forty, sure,
'Bout Jeremie Choquette, come back from Woonsocket
An' t'ree new leetle twin on Madame Vaillancour'.
But nine o'clock strike, an' de chil'ren is sleepy,
Mese'f an' ole woman can't stay up no more
So alone by de fire--'cos dey say dey ain't tire--
We lef' Philomene an' de young Isidore.
I s'pose dey be talkin' beeg lot on de kitchen
'Bout all de nice moon dey was see on de sky,
For Philomene's takin' long tam get awaken
Nex' day, she's so sleepy on bote of de eye.
Dat's wan of dem ting's, ev'ry tam on de fashion,
An' 'bout nices' t'ing dat was never be seen.
Got not'ing for say me--I spark it sam' way me
W'en I go see de moder ma girl Philomene.
We leev very quiet 'way back on de contree
Don't put on sam style lak de big village,
W'en we don't get de monee you t'ink dat is fonny
An' mak' plaintee sport on de Bottes Sauvages.
But I tole you--dat's true--I don't go on de city
If you geev de fine house an' beaucoup d'argent--
I rader be stay me, an' spen' de las' day me
On farm by de rapide dat's call Cheval Blanc.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Canadian Country Doctor
I s'pose mos'ev'ry body t'ink hees job's
about de hardes'
From de boss man on de Guvernement to
poor man on de town
From de curé to de lawyer, an' de farmer to
de school boy
An' all de noder feller was mak' de worl'
go roun'.
But dere 's wan man got hees han' full t'roo
ev'ry kin' of wedder
An' he 's never sure of not'ing but work
an' work away-
Dat 's de man dey call de doctor, w'en you
ketch heem on de contree
An' he 's only man I know-me, don't got
no holiday.
If you 're comin' off de city spen' de summer-
tam among us
An' you walk out on de morning w'en de
leetle bird is sing
Mebbe den you see de doctor w'en he 's passin
wit' hees buggy
An' you t'ink 'Wall! contree doctor mus'
be very plesan' t'ing
'Drivin' dat way all de summer up an' down
along de reever
W'ere de nice cool win' is blowin' among de
maple tree
Den w'en he 's mak' hees visit, comin' home
before de night tam
For pass de quiet evening wit' hees wife an'
familee.'
An' w'en off across de mountain, some wan 's
sick an' want de doctor
'Mus' be fine trip crossin' over for watch
de sun go down
Makin' all dem purty color lak w'at you call
de rainbow,'
Dat 's de way peop' is talkin' was leevin' on
de town.
But it is n't alway summer on de contree, an'
de doctor
He could tole you many story of de storm
dat he 's been in
How hees coonskin coat come handy, w'en de
win' blow off de reever
For if she 's sam ole reever, she's not
alway sam' old win'.
An' de mountain dat 's so quiet w'en de w'ite
cloud go a-sailin'
All about her on de summer w'ere de sheep
in feedin' high
You should see her on December w'en de snow
is pilin' roun' her
An' all de win' of winter come tearin' t'roo
de sky.
O! le bon Dieu help de doctor w'en de mes-
sage come to call heem
From hees warm bed on de night-tam for
visit some poor man
Lyin' sick across de hill side on noder side de
reever
An' he hear de mountain roarin' lak de beeg
Shawinigan.
Ah! well he know de warning but he can't
stay till de morning
So he's hitchin' up hees leetle horse an' put
heem on burleau
Den w'en he 's feex de buffalo, an' wissle to
hees pony
Away t'roo storm an' hurricane de contree
doctor go.
O! de small Canadian pony! dat 's de horse
can walk de snowdreef.
Dat 's de horse can fin' de road too he 's
never been before
Kip your heart up leetle feller, for dere 's
many mile before you
An' it 's purty hard job tellin' w'en you see
your stable door.
Yass! de doctor he can tole you, if he have de
tam for talkin'
All about de bird was singin' before de sum-
mer lef'
For he got dem on hees bureau an' he 's doin'
it hese'f too
An' de las' tam I was dere, me, I see dem all
mese'f.
But about de way he travel t'roo de stormy
night of winter
W'en de rain come on de spring flood, an'
de bridge is wash away
All de hard work, all de danger dat was offen
hang aroun' heem
Dat 's de tam our contree doctor don 't have
very moche to say.
For it 's purty ole, ole story, an' he alway have
it wit' heem
Ever since he come among us parish Saint
Mathieu
An' do doubt he's feelin' mebbe jus' de
sam' as noder feller
So he rader do hees talkin' about somet'ing
dat was new.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Ole Docteur Fiset
Ole Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet,
Sapré tonnerre! he was leev long tam!
I'm sure he's got ninety year or so,
Beat all on de Parish 'cept Pierre Courteau,
An' day affer day he work all de sam'.
Dat house on de hill, you can see it still,
She's sam' place he buil' de firs' tam' he come
Behin' it dere's one leetle small jardin
Got plaintee de bes' tabac Canayen
Wit' fameuse apple an' beeg blue plum.
An' dey're all right dere, for de small boy's scare
No matter de apple look nice an' red,
For de small boy know if he's stealin' some
Den Docteur Fiset on dark night he come,
An' cut leetle feller right off hees head!
But w'en dey was rap, an' tak' off de cap,
M'sieu' le Docteur he will say 'Entrez,'
Den all de boy pass on jardin behin'
W'ere dey eat mos' ev'ryt'ing good dey fin',
Till dey can't go on school nearly two, t'ree day.
But Docteur Fiset, not moche fonne he get,
Drivin' all over de whole contree,
If de road she's bad, if de road she's good,
W'en ev'ryt'ing's drown on de Spring-tam flood,
An' workin' for not'ing half tam' mebbe!
Let her rain or snow, all he want to know
Is jus' if anywan's feelin' sick,
For Docteur Fiset's de ole fashion kin'
Doin' good was de only t'ing on hees min'
So he got no use for de politique.
An' he's careful too, 'cos firs' t'ing he do,
For fear dere was danger some fever case,
Is tak' w'en he's come leetle w'isky chaud,
Den 'noder wan too jus' before he go,
He's so scare carry fever aroun' de place!
On nice summer day w'en we're makin' hay
Dere's not'ing more pleasant for us I'm sure
Dan see de ole man come joggin' along,
Alway singin' some leetle song,
An' hear heem say 'Tiens, mes amis, Bonjour!'
An' w'en de cole rain was commence again
An' we're sittin' at home on some warm cornerre,
If we hear de buggy an' see de light
Tearin' along t'roo de black, black night,
We know right off dat's de ole Docteur!
An' he's smart horse sure, w'at he call 'Faubourg,'
Ev'ry place on de Parish he know dem all,
An' you ought to see de nice way he go
For fear he's upsettin' upon de snow,
W'en ole man's asleep on de cariole!
I 'member w'en poor Hormisdas Couture
Get sick on hees place twenty mile away
An' hees boy Ovide he was come 'Raquette'
W'at you call 'Snowshoe,' for Docteur Fiset,
An' Docteur he start wit' hees horse an' sleigh.
All de night before, de beeg storm she roar,
An' mos' of de day it's de sam' also,
De drif' was pilin' up ten feet high
You can't see not'ing dis side de sky,
Not'ing but wan avalanche of snow.
I'm hearin' de bell w'en I go on de well
For water de cattle on barn close by,
But I only ketch sight of hees cheval blanc
An' hees coonskin coat wit' de capuchon
An' de storm tak' heem off, jus' de sam' he fly.
Mus' be le Bon Dieu dat is help him t'roo,
Ole Docteur Fiset an' hees horse 'Faubourg,'
'Twas somet'ing for splain-me, wall I don't care,
But somehow or 'noder he's gettin' dere,
An' save de life Hormisdas Couture.
But it's sam' alway, lak' dat ev'ry day,
He never was spare hese'f pour nous autres,
He don't mak' moche monee, Docteur Fiset,
An' offen de only t'ing he was get
Is de prayer of poor man, an' wan bag of oat.
* * * * *
Wall! Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet
He is not dead yet! an' I'm purty sure
If you're passin' dat place about ten year more
You will see heem go roun' lak' he go before
Wit' de ole cariole an' hees horse 'Faubourg!'
poem by William Henry Drummond
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M'Sieu Smit
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISHMAN IN THE CANADIAN WOODS.
Wan morning de walkim boss say 'Damase,
I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce,
So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Philéas
An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.
'He'll have I am sure de grosse baggage--
Mebbe some valise--mebbe six or t'ree--
But if she's too moche for de longue portage
'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee.'
W'en we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere,
An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien,
'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre
Was spik heem de crowd on de 'Parisien.'
Fonny way dat Englishman he'll be dress,
Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee,
Wit' coat dat's no coat at all--only ves'
An' hat--de more stranger I never see!
Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log
An' swear heem in English purty loud
Den talk Français, w'ile hees chien boule dog
Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd.
I spik im 'Bonjour, M'sieu' Smit', Bonjour,
I hope dat yourse'f and famille she's well?'
M'sieu Smit' he is also say 'Bonjour,'
An' call off hees dog dat's commence for smell.
I tell heem my name dat's Damase Labrie
I am come wit' Philéas for mak' de trip,
An' he say I'm de firs' man he never see
Spik English encore since he lef' de ship.
He is also ax it to me 'Damase,
De peep she don't seem understan' Français,
W'at's matter wit' dat?' An' I say 'Becos
You mak' too much talk on de Parisien.'
De groun she is pile wit' baggage--Sapré!
An' I see purty quick we got plaintee troub--
Two tronk, t'ree valise, four-five fusil,
An' w'at M'sieu Smit' he is call 'bat' tubbe.'
M'sieu Smit' he's tole me w'at for's dat t'ing,
An' it seem Englishman he don't feel correc'
Until he's go plonge on some bat' morning
An' sponge it hees possibill high hees neck.
Of course dat's not'ing of my beez-nesse,
He can plonge on de water mos' ev'ry day,
But I t'ink for mese'f it mak foolishness
An' don't do no good w'en your bonne santé.
W'en I tell 'Poleon he mus' mak' dat job,
Dere's leetle too moche for canoe d'écorce,
He's mad right away an' say 'Sapré diable!
You t'ink I go work lak wan niggerhorse?
'I'm not manufacture dat way, bâ non,
Dat rich stranger man he have lot monee,
I go see my frien' Onésime Gourdon,
An' tole heem bring horse wit' some more buggee.'
Wall! affer some w'ile dey'll arrange all dat,
'Poleon an' hees frien' Onésime Gourdon,
But w'en 'Poleon is tak' hole of bat',
He receive it beeg scare immediatement!
Dat chien boule dog, I was tole you 'bout,
I am not understan' w'at good she's for,
Eat 'Poleon's leg w'it hees teet' an' mout,
'Poleon he is feel very mad--by Gor!
Of course I am poule heem hees tail toute suite
But I don't know some reason mak all dis troub',
W'en I hear me dat Englishman, M'sieu Smit'
Say 'Poleon, w'at for you took my tubbe?
'Leff 'im dere--for I don't low nobodee
Walk heem off on any such way lak dat;
You may tak' all de res', an' I don't care me--
But de man he'll be keel who is tak' my bat'.'
'I will carry heem wit' me,' say M'sieu Smit'--
'W'erever dat tubbe she mus' go, I go--
No matter de many place we visite,
An' my sponge I will tak' mese'f also.'
Philéas say 'Damase, we mus buil' some raf'
Or mebbe some feller be sure get drown';
Dis geev me plaisir, but I'm scare mak' laf',
So I'll do it mese'f, inside, way down.
At las' we are start on voyage, sure nuff,
M'sieu Smit' carry tubbe on de top hees head,
Good job, I t'ink so, de lac isn't rough,
Or probably dis tam, we're all come dead.
De dog go wit' Onésime Gourdon,
An' Onésime afferwar' say to me,
'Dat chien boule dog is eat 'Poleon
Was de more quiet dog I never see.'
But fun she's commence on very nex' day
W'en we go camp out on de Castor Noir.
Dat Englishman he'll come along an' say
'I hope some wil' Injun she don't be dere.
'I have hear many tam, dat de wood be foule
Of Injun w'at tak' off de hair your head.
But so surely my name she's Johnnie Boule
If I see me dem feller I shoot it dead.'
Philéas den pray harder, more quick he can
Mebbe he's t'ink dat's hees las' portage
De moder hees fader, she's Injun man
Derefore an' also, he is wan Sauvage.
I say 'Don't mak' it some excitement;
Saison she is 'close' on de spring an' fall,
An' dem peep dat work on de Gouvernement
Don't lak you shoot Injun dis mont' at all.'
Nex' day M'sieu Smit' is perform hees plonge
We see heem go done it--Philéas an' me,
An' w'en he's hang up bat' tubbe an' sponge
We go on de wood for mak' Chasse perdrix.
An' mebbe you will not believe to me,
But w'en we come back on de camp encore
De sponge of dat Englishman don't be see,
An' we fin' beeg bear she's go dead on shore.
Very fonny t'ing how he's loss hees life,
But Philéas he'll know hese'f purty quick,
He cut M'sieu Bear wit' hees hunter knife,
An' sponge she's fall out on de bear stummick.
Day affer we get two fox houn' from Boss
Dat's good for ketch deer on de fall an' spring,
Den place Englishman w'ere he can't get los'
An' tole heem shoot quicker he see somet'ing.
Wat's dat leetle deer got no horn at all?
She'll be moder small wan en suite bimeby,
Don't remember mese'f w'at name she's call,
But dat's de kin' start w'en de dog is cry.
We see heem come down on de runaway
De dog she is not very far behin'
An' w'en dey pass place M'sieu Smit' is stay
We expec' he will shoot or make noise some kin'!
But he's not shoot at all, mon cher ami,
So we go an' we ax 'Is he see some deer?'
He say 'Dat's long tam I am stay on tree
But I don't see not'ing she's pass on here.'
We spik heem once more, 'He don't see fox houn'?'
W'at you t'ink he is say, dat Englishman?
'Yes, I see dem pass quickly upon de groun',
Wan beeg yellow dog, an' two small brown wan.'
He's feel de more bad I don't see before
W'en he know dat beeg dog, she's wan small deer,
An' for mak' ev'ryt'ing correc' encore
We drink I am sure six bouteilles de bière.
Nex' day--dat's Dimanche--he is spik to me,
'Damase, you mus' feel leetle fatigué,
You may slep' wit' Philéas w'ile I go an' see
I can't get some nice quiet tam to-day.'
So for keep 'way skeeter, an' fly also
Bouteille from de shelf M'sieu Smit' he tak',
Den he start wit' his chien boule dog an' go
For nice quiet walk on shore of lac.
We don't slep' half hour w'en dere's beeg, beeg yell,
Lak somet'ing I'm sure don't hear long tam,
An' we see wan feller we cannot tell,
Till he spik it, 'Damase! Philéas!! dam dam!!!'
Den we know it at once, mon cher ami,
But she's swell up hees face--hees neck an' han'!
It seem all de skeeter on w'ole contree
Is jump on de head of dat Englishman.
Some water on poor M'sieu Smit' we'll t'row,
An' w'en he's tranquille fin' out ev'ryt'ing;
Bouteille he's rub on, got some nice sirop
I was mak' mese'f on de wood las' spring.
Dere was jus' 'noder t'ing he seem for care
An' den he is feel it more satisfy,
Dat t'ing, my dear frien', was for keel some bear,
If he'll do dat wan tam, he's prepare for die.
Philéas say he know w'ere some blue berree
Mak' very good place for de bear have fonne,
So we start nex' day on morning earlee,
An' M'sieu Smit' go wit' hees elephan' gun.
Wan woman sauvage she is come be dere,
Mebbe want some blue berree mak' some pie,
Dat' Englishman shoot, he is t'ink she's bear,
An' de woman she's holler, 'Mon Dieu, I'm die!'
M'sieu Smit' he don't do no harm, becos
He is shake hese'f w'en he shoot dat squaw,
But scare he pay hunder' dollar cos'
For keel some sauvage on de 'close' saison.
T'ree day affer dat, we start out on lac
For ketch on de water wan Cariboo,
But win' she blow strong, an' we can't get back
Till we t'row ourse'f out on dat canoe.
We t'ink M'sieu Smit' he is sure be drown,
Leetle w'ile we can't see heem again no more,
An' den he's come up from de place go down
An' jomp on hees bat' tubbe an' try go shore.
W'en he's pass on de bat', he say 'Hooraw!'
An' commence right away for mak' some sing;
I'm sure you can hear heem ten-twelve arpent
'Bout 'Brittanie, she alway mus' boss somet'ing.'
Dat's all I will tole you jus' now, my frien';
I s'pose you don't know de more fonny case,
But if Englishman go on wood again
I'll have more storee w'en you pass my place.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Cure Of Calumette
Dere's no voyageur on de reever never
run hees canoe d'ecorce
T'roo de roar an' de rush of de rapide, w'ere it
jump lak a beeg w'ite horse,
Dere's no hunter man on de prairie, never
wear w'at you call racquette
Can beat leetle Fader O'Hara, de Curé of
Calumette.
Hees fader is full-blooded Irish, an' hees moder
is pure Canayenne,
Not offen dat stock go tegedder, but she's
fine combination ma frien'
For de Irish he's full of de devil, an' de French
dey got savoir faire,
Dat's mak'it de very good balance an' tak'
you mos' ev'ry w' ere.
But dere' wan t'ing de Curé wont stan' it;
mak' fun of de Irlandais
An' of course de French we say not'ing,
'cos de parish she's all Canayen,
Den you see on account of de moder, he can't
spik hese'f very moche,
So de ole joke she's all out of fashion, an' wan
of dem t'ing we don't touch.
Wall! wan of dat kin' is de Curé, but w'en he
be comin' our place
De peop' on de parish all w'isper, 'How
young he was look on hees face;
Too bad if de wedder she keel heem de firse
tam he got leetle wet,
An' de Bishop might sen' beeger Curé, for it's
purty tough place, Calumette!'
Ha! ha! how I wish I was dere, me, w'en he
go on de mission call
On de shaintee camp way up de reever, drivin'
hees own cariole,
An' he meet blagger' feller been drinkin', jus'
enough mak' heem ack lak fou,
Joe Vadeboncoeur, dey was call heem, an' he's
purty beeg feller too!
Mebbe Joe he don't know it's de Curé, so he's
hollerin', 'Get out de way,
If you don't geev me whole of de roadside,
sapree! you go off on de sleigh.'
But de Curé he never say not'ing, jus' poule
on de line leetle bit,
An' w'en Joe try for kip heem hees promise,
hees nose it get badly hit.
Maudit! he was strong leetle Curé, an' he go
for Jo-zeph en masse
An' w'en he is mak' it de finish, poor Joe
is n't feel it firse class,
So nex' tam de Curé he's goin' for visit de
shaintee encore
Of course he was mak' beeges' mission never
see on dat place before.
An' he know more, I'm sure dan de lawyer,
an' dere's many poor habitant
Is glad for see Fader O'Hara, an' ax w'at he
t'ink of de law
W'en dey get leetle troub' wit' each oder, an'
don't know de bes' t'ing to do,
Dat's makin' dem save plaintee monee, an'
kip de good neighbor too.
But w'en we fin' out how he paddle till canoe
she was nearly fly
An' travel racquette on de winter, w'en snow-
dreef is pillin' up high
For visit some poor man or woman dat's waitin'
de message of peace,
An' get dem prepare for de journey, we're
proud on de leetle pries'!
O! many dark night w'en de chil'ren is put
away safe on de bed
An' mese'f an' ma femme mebbe sittin' an'
watchin' de small curly head
We hear somet'ing else dan de roar of de ton-
der, de win' an' de rain;
So we're bote passin' out on de doorway, an'
lissen an' lissen again.
An' it's lonesome for see de beeg cloud sweep-
in' across de sky
An' lonesome for hear de win' cryin' lak some-
body's goin'to die,
But de soun' away down de valley, creepin'
around de hill
All de tam gettin' closer. closer, dat's de soun'
mak' de heart stan'still!
It's de bell of de leetle Curé, de music of deat'
we hear,
Along on de black road ringin', an' soon it was
comin' near
Wan minute de face of de Curé we see by de
lantern light,
An' he's gone from us, jus' lak a shadder, into
de stormy night.
An' de buggy rush down de hill an' over
de bridge below,
W'ere creek run so high on de spring-tam,
w'en mountain t'row off de snow,
An' so long as we hear heem goin', we kneel
on de floor an' pray
Dat God will look affer de Curé, an' de poor
soul dat 's passin' away.
I dunno if he need our prayer, but we geev' it
heem jus' de sam',
For w'en a man's doin' hees duty lak de Curé
do all de tam
Never min' all de t'ing may happen, no matter
he's riche or poor
Le bon Dieu was up on de heaven, will look
out for dat man, I'm sure.
I'm only poor habitant farmer, an' mebbe
know not'ing at all,
But dere's wan t'ing I'm always wishin', an'
dat's w'en I get de call
For travel de far-away journey, ev'ry wan on
de worl' mus' go
He 'll be wit' me de leetle Curé 'fore I'm
leffin' dis place below.
For I know I'll be feel more easy, if he's
sittin' dere by de bed
An' he'll geev' me de good-bye message, an'
place hees han' on ma head,
Den I'll hol' if he 'll only let me, dat han' till
de las' las' breat'
An' bless leetle Fader O'Hara, de Curé of
Calumette.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Ole Tam On Bord-A-Plouffe
I lak on summer ev'ning, w'en nice cool win' is blowin'
An' up above ma head, I hear de pigeon on de roof,
To bring ma chair an' sit dere, an' watch de current flowin'
Of ole Riviere des Prairies as she pass de Bord-a Plouffe.
But it seem dead place for sure now, on shore down by de lan'in'--
No more de voyageurs is sing lak dey was sing alway--
De tree dey're commence growin' w'ere shaintee once is stan'in',
An' no one scare de swallow w'en she fly across de bay.
I don't lak see de reever she's never doin' not'in'
But passin' empty ev'ry day on Bout de l'ile below--
Ma ole shaloup dat's lyin' wit' all its timber rottin'
An' tam so change on Bord-a Plouffe since forty year ago!
De ice dat freeze on winter, might jus' as well be stay dere,
For w'en de spring she's comin' de only t'ing I see
Is two, t'ree piqnique feller, hees girl was row away dere,
Don't got no use for water now, on Riviere des Prairies.
'Twas diff'rent on dem summer you couldn't see de reever,
Wit' saw-log an' squar' timber raf', mos' all de season t'roo--
Two honder man an' more too--all busy lak de beaver,
An' me! I'm wan de pilot for ronne 'em down de 'Soo.'
Don't 'member lak I use to, for now I'm gettin' ole, me--
But still I can't forget Bill Wade, an' Guillaume Lagassé,
Joe Monferrand, Bazile Montour--wit' plaintee I can't tole, me,
An' king of all de Bord-a Plouffe, M'sieu' Venance Lemay.
Lak small boy on hees lesson, I learn de way to han'le
Mos' beeges' raf' is never float upon de Ottawaw,
Ma fader show me dat too, for well he know de channel,
From Dutchman Rapide up above to Bout de l'ile en bas.
He's smart man too, ma fader, only t'ing he got de bow-leg,
Ridin' log w'en leetle feller, mebbe dat's de reason w'y,
All de sam', if he's in hurry, den Bagosh! he's got heem no leg
But wing an' fedder lak oiseau, was fly upon de sky!
O dat was tam we're happy, an' man dey're alway singin',
For if it's hard work on de raf', w'y dere's your monee sure!
An' ev'ry summer evenin', ole Bord-a Plouffe she's ringin'
Wit' 'En Roulant ma Boulé' an' 'J'aimerai toujour.'
Dere dey're comin' on de wagon! fine young feller ev'ry wan too,
Dress im up de ole tam fashion, dat I lak for see encore,
Yellin' hooraw! t'roo de village, all de horse upon de ronne too,
Ah poor Bord-a Plouffe! she never have dem tam again no more!
Very offen w'en I'm sleepin', I was feel as if I'm goin'
Down de ole Riviere des Prairies on de raf' de sam as den--
An' ma dream is only lef' me, w'en de rooster commence crowin'
But it can't do me no harm, 'cos it mak me young again.
An' upon de morning early, wen de reever fog is clearin'
An' sun is makin' up hees min' for drive away de dew,
W'en young bird want hees breakfas', I wak' an' t'ink I'm hearin'
Somebody shout 'Hooraw, Bateese, de raf' she's wait for you.'
Dat's voice of Guillaume Lagassé was call me on de morning
Jus' outside on de winder w'ere you look across de bay,
But he's drown upon de Longue 'Soo,' wit' never word of warning
An' green grass cover over poor Guillaume Lagassé.
I s'pose dat's meanin' somet'ing--mebbe I'm not long for stay here,
Seein' all dem strange t'ing happen--dead frien' comin' roun' me so--
But I'm sure I die more happy, if I got jus' wan more day here,
Lak we have upon de ole tam Bord-a Plouffe of long ago!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Log Jam
1 Dere 'a s beeg jam up de reever, w'ere rapide is runnin' fas',
2 An' de log we cut las' winter is takin' it all de room;
3 So boss of de gang is swearin', for not'ing at all can pass
4 An' float away down de current till somebody break de boom.
5 'Here 's for de man will tak' de job, holiday for a week
6 Extra monee w'en pay day come, an' ten dollar suit of clothes.
7 'T is n't so hard work run de log, if only you do it quick--
8 W'ere 's de man of de gang den is ready to say, ` Here goes?''
9 Dere was de job for a feller, handy an' young an' smart,
10 Willin' to tak' hees chances, willin' to risk hees life.
11 'Cos many a t'ing is safer, dan tryin' de boom to start,
12 For if de log wance ketch you, dey 're cuttin' you lak a knife.
13 Aleck Lachance he lissen, an' answer heem right away
14 'Marie Louise dat 's leevin' off on de shore close by
15 She 's sayin' de word was mak' me mos' happies' man to-day
16 An' if you ax de reason I 'm ready to go, dat 's w'y.'
17 Pierre Delorme he 's spikin' den, an' O! but he 's lookin' glad.
18 'Dis morning de sam' girl tole me, she mus' say to me, ` Good-bye Pierre.'
19 So no wan can stop me goin', for I feel I was comin' mad
20 An' wedder I see to-morrow, dat 's not'ing, for I don't care.'
21 Aleck Lachance was steady, he 's bully boy all aroun',
22 Alway sendin' de monee to hees moder away below,
23 Now an' den savin' a leetle for buyin' de house an' groun',
24 An' never done t'inkin', t'inkin' of Marie Louise Lebeau.
25 Pierre was a half-breed feller, we call heem de grand Nor' Wes'--
26 Dat is de place he 's leevin' w'en he work for de Compagnie,
27 Dey say he 's marry de squaw dere, never min' about all de res'--
28 An' affer he get hees monee, he 's de boy for de jamboree!
29 Ev'ry wan start off cheerin' w'en dey pass on de log out dere
30 Jompin' about lak monkey, Aleck an' Pierre Delorme.
31 Workin' de sam' as twenty, an' runnin' off ev'ryw'ere,
32 An' busy on all de places, lak beaver before de storm.
33 Den we hear some wan shoutin', an' dere was dat crazy girl,
34 Marie Louise, on de hillside, cryin' an' raisin' row.
35 Could n't do not'ing worser! mos' foolish t'ing on de worl'
36 For Pierre Delorme an' Aleck was n't workin' upon de scow.
37 Bote of dem turn aroun' dere w'en girl is commencin' cry,
38 Lak woman I wance remember, got los' on de bush t'ree day,
39 'Look how de log is movin'! I 'm seein' it wit' ma eye,
40 Come back out of all dem danger!' an' den she was faint away.
41 Ten year I been reever driver, an' mebbe know somet'ing too,
42 An' dere was n't a man don't watch for de minute dem log she go;
43 But never a word from de boos dere, stannin' wit' all hees crew,
44 So how she can see dem movin' don't ax me, for I dunno.
45 Hitch dem all up togeder, t'ousan' horse crazy mad--
46 Only a couple of feller for han'le dem ev'ry wan,
47 Scare dem wit' t'onder an' lightning, an' den 't is n't half so bad
48 As log runnin' down de rapide, affer de boom she 's gone.
49 See dem nex' day on de basin, you t'ink dey was t'roo de fight
50 Cut wit' de sword an' bullet, lyin' along de shore
51 You 'd pity de log, I 'm sure, an' say 't was terrible sight
52 But man goin' t'roo de sam' t'ing, you 'd pity dat man some more.
53 An' Pierre w'en he see dem goin' an' log jompin' up an' down
54 De sign of de cross he 's makin' an' dive on de water dere,
55 He know it 's all up hees chances, an' he rader be goin' drown
56 Dan ketch by de rollin' timber, an' dat 's how he go, poor Pierre.
57 Aleck's red shirt is blazin' off w'ere we hear de log
58 Crackin' away an' bangin', sam' as a honder gun,
59 Lak' sun on de morning tryin' to peep t'roo de reever fog--
60 But Aleck's red shirt is redder dan ever I see de sun.
61 An' w'en dey 're tryin' wake her: Marie Louise Lebeau,
62 On her neck dey fin' a locket, she 's kipin' so nice an' warm,
63 An' dey 're tolin' de funny story, de funnies' I dunno--
64 For de face, Baptême! dey see dere, was de half-breed Pierre Delorme!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Pelang
Pelang! Pelang! Mon cher garçon,
I t'ink of you--t'ink of you night and day--
Don't mak' no difference, seems to me
De long long tam you're gone away.
* * * * *
De snow is deep on de Grande Montagne--
Lak tonder de rapide roar below--
De sam' kin' night, ma boy get los'
On beeg, beeg storm forty year ago.
An' I never was hear de win' blow hard,
An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane--
But ev'ryt'ing 'pear lak' it's yesterday
An' whole of ma troub' is come back again.
Ah me! I was foolish young girl den
It's only ma own plaisir I care,
An' w'en some dance or soirée come off
Dat's very sure t'ing you will see me dere.
Don't got too moche sense at all dat tam,
Run ev'ry place on de whole contree--
But I change beeg lot w'en Pelang come 'long
For I love him so well, kin' o' steady me.
An' he was de bes' boy on Coteau,
An' t'ink I am de bes' girl too for sure--
He's tole me dat, geev de ring also
Was say on de inside 'Je t'aime toujours.'
I geev heem some hair dat come off ma head,
I mak' de nice stocking for warm hees feet,
So ev'ryt'ing's feex, w'en de spring is come
For mak' mariée on de church toute suite.
'W'en de spring is come!' Ah I don't see dat,
Dough de year is pass as dey pass before,
An' de season come, an' de season go,
But our spring never was come no more.
* * * * *
It's on de fête of de jour de l'an,
An' de worl' outside is cole an' w'ite,
As I sit an' watch for mon cher Pelang
For he's promise come see me dis very night.
Bonhomme Peloquin dat is leev near us--
He's alway keep look heem upon de moon--
See fonny t'ing dere only week before,
An' say he's expec' some beeg storm soon.
So ma fader is mak' it de laugh on me'
'Pelang he's believe heem de ole Bonhomme
Dat t'ink he see ev'ryt'ing on de moon
An' mebbe he's feel it too scare for come.'
But I don't spik not'ing I am so sure
Of de promise Pelang is mak' wit' me--
An' de mos' beeg storm dat is never blow
Can't kip heem away from hees own Marie.
I open de door, an' pass outside
For see mese'f how de night is look
An' de star is commence for go couché
De mountain also is put on hees tuque.
No sooner, I come on de house again
W'ere ev'ryt'ing feel it so nice an' warm,
Dan out of de sky come de Nor'Eas' win'--
Out of de sky come de beeg snow storm.
Blow lak not'ing I never see,
Blow lak le diable he was mak' grande tour;
De snow come down lak wan avalanche,
An' cole! Mon Dieu, it is cole for sure!
I t'ink, I t'ink of mon pauvre garçon,
Dat's out mebbe on de Grande Montagne;
So I place chandelle we're it's geev good light,
An' pray Le Bon Dieu he will help Pelang.
De ole folk t'ink I am go crazee,
An' moder she's geev me de good night kiss;
She say 'Go off on your bed, Marie,
Dere's nobody come on de storm lak dis.'
But ma eye don't close dat long long, night
For it seem jus' lak phantome is near,
An' I t'ink of de terrible Loup Garou
An' all de bad story I offen hear.
Dere was tam I am sure somet'ing call 'Marie'
So plainly I open de outside door,
But it's meet me only de awful storm,
An de cry pass away--don't come no more.
An' de morning sun, w'en he's up at las',
Fin' me w'ite as de face of de snow itse'f,
For I know very well, on de Grande Montagne,
Ma poor Pelang he's come dead hese'f.
It's noon by de clock w'en de storm blow off,
An' ma fader an' broder start out for see
Any track on de snow by de Mountain side,
Or down on de place w'ere chemin should be.
No sign at all on de Grande Montagne,
No sign all over de w'ite, w'ite snow;
Only hear de win' on de beeg pine tree,
An' roar of de rapide down below.
An' w'ere is he lie, mon cher Pelang!
Pelang ma boy I was love so well?
Only Le Bon Dieu up above
An' mebbe de leetle snow bird can tell.
An I t'ink I hear de leetle bird say,
'Wait till de snow is geev up it's dead,
Wait till I go, an' de robin come,
An' den you will fin' hees cole, cole bed.'
An' it's all come true, for w'en de sun
Is warm de side of de Grande Montagne
An' drive away all de winter snow,
We fin' heem at las', mon cher Pelang!
An' here on de fête of de jour de l'an,
Alone by mese'f I sit again,
W'ile de beeg, beeg storm is blow outside,
An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane.
Not all alone, for I t'ink I hear
De voice of ma boy gone long ago;
Can hear it above de hurricane,
An' roar of de rapide down below.
Yes--yes--Pelang, mon cher garçon!
I t'ink of you, t'ink of you night an' day,
Don't mak' no difference seems to me
How long de tam you was gone away.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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My Little Cabane
I'm sittin' to-night on maleetle ca-
bane, more happier dan de king,
An' ev'ry corner 's singin' out wit'
musique de ole stove sing
I hear de cry of de winter win', for de storm-
gate 's open wide
But I don't care not'ing for win'or storm, so
long I was safe inside.
Viens 'ci, mon chien, put your head on dere,
let your nose res' on ma knee-
You 'member de tam we chase de moose back
on de Lac Souris
An' de snow come down an' we los' ourse'f
till mornin' is bring de light,
You t'ink we got place to sleep, mon chien,
lak de place we got here to-night
Onder de roof of de leetle cabane, w'ere fire
she's blazin' high
An' bed I mak' of de spruce tree branch, is lie
on de floor close by,
O! I lak de smell of dat nice fresh bed, an' I
dream of de summer tam
An' de spot w'ere de beeg trout jomp so
moche down by de lumber dam.
But lissen dat win', how she scream outside,
mak me t'ink of de loup garou,
W'y to-night, mon chien, I be feelin' glad if
even de carcajou
Don't ketch hese'f on de trap I set to-day on
de Lac Souris
Let heem wait tili to-morrow, an' den if he
lak, I geev heem good chance, sapree!
I see beeg cloud w'en I'm out to-day, off on
de nor'-eas' sky,
An' she block de road, so de cloud behin',
don't get a chance passin' by,
An' I t'ink of boom on de grande riviere, w'en
log 's fillin' up de bay,
Wall! sam' as de boom on de spring-tam
flood, dat cloud she was sweep away.
Dem log 's very nice an' quiet, so long as de
boom 's all right,
But soon as de boom geev way, l'enfant! it's
den is begin de fight.
Dey run de rapide, an' jomp de rock', dey leap
on de air an' dive,
Can hear dem roar from de reever shore, jus'
lak dey was all alive.
An' dat was de way wit' de cloud to-day, de
res' of dem push aside,
For dey 're comin' fas' from de cole nor'-eas'
an' away t'roo de sky dey ride
Shakin' de snow as along dey go, lak grain
from de farmer's han'
Till to-morrow you can't see not'ing at all, but
smoke of de leetle cabane.
I'm glad we don't got no chimley, only hole
on de roof up dere,
An'spark fly off on w'ole of de worl', so dere 's
no use gettin' scare,
Mus' get more log! an' it's lucky too, de wood
pile is stannin' near
So blow away storm, for harder you go, de
warmer she's comin' here-
I wonder how dey get on, mon chien, off on de
great beeg town,
W'ere house is so high, near touch de sky,
mus' be danger of fallin' down.
An' worser too on de night lak dis, ketchin'
dat terrible win',
O! leetle small place lak de ole cabane was de
right place for stayin' in.
I s'pose dey got plaintee bodder too, dem
feller dat's be riche man,
For dey 're never knowin' w'en t'ief may come
an' steal all de t'ing he can
An' de monee was kip dem busy too, watchin'
it night an' day,
Dunno but we're better off here, mon chien,
wit' beeg city far away.
For I look on de corner over dere, an' see it
ma birch canoe,
I look on de wall w'ere ma rifle hang along wit'
de good snowshoe,
An' ev'ry t'ing else on de worl' I got, safe on
dis place near me.
An' here you are too, ma brave ole dog, wit'
your nose up agen ma knee.
An' here we be stay t'roo de summer day,
w'en ev'ry t'ing 's warm an' bright
On winter too w'en de stormy win' blow lak
she blow to-night
Let dem stay on de city, on great beeg house,
dem feller dat 's be riche man
For we're happy an' satisfy here, mon chien,
on our own leetle small cabane.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Marie Louise
Dis was de story of boy an' girl
Dat 's love each oder above de worl'
But it 's not easy job for mak' l'amour
W'en de girl she 's riche an' de boy he 's poor
All de sam' he don't worry an' she don't cry,
But wait for good chances come bimedy.
Young Marie Louise Hurtubuise
Was leev wit' her meder la veuve Denise
On fines' house on de w'ole chemin
From Caribou reever to St. Germain
For ole woamn 's boss on de grande moulin.
W'ere dere 's nice beeg dam, water all de tam
An'season t'roo runnin' jus' de sam'
Wit' good leetle creek comin' off de hill
Was helpin' de reever for work de mill
So de grande moulin she is never still.
No wonder Denise she was hard to please
W'en de boy come sparkin' Marie Louise
For affer de foreman Bazile is pay
De mill she 's bringin' t'ree dollar a day
An' for makin' de monee, dat 's easy way.
An' de girl Marie, O! she's tres jolie,
Jompin' aroun lak de summer bee
She 's never short plaintee t'ing to do
An' mebbe she ketch leetle honey too,
'Cos she 's jus' as sweet as de morning dew.
An' w'en she was dress on her Sunday bes'
An' walk wit' her moder on seconde mess
Dere 's not'ing is bring de young man so fas'
An' dey stan' on door of church en masse
So res' of de peop' dey can hardly pass.
An' she know musique, 'cos on Chris'mas week
W'en organ man on de church is sick
(S'pose he got de grippe) dat girl she play
Lak college professor, de pries' is say
Till de place it was crowd nearly ev'ry day.
Ole le Curé Belair of St. Pollinaire,
Dat 's parish ten mile noder side riviere,
If he 's not gettin' mad, it was funny t'ing
W'en hees young man fly lak bird on de wing
Wit' nobody lef' behin' to sing.
An' nex' t'ing dey know it 's comin' so
Dat mos' of de girl she got no beau,
An' of course dat's makin' de jealousie
For w'en de young feller he see Marie
He see not'ing else on hees eye, sapree!
Mus' be somet'ing done sure as de gun,
It's all very well for de boy have fun
But dere 's noder t'ing too, must n't be forget,
Dere 's two fine parish dat 's all upset
An' mebbe de troub' is n't over yet.
So ev'ry wan say de only way
Is gettin' young Marie Louise mariée,
Den dey have beeg meetin' on magasin,
W'ere he sit on de chair Aleck Sanschagrin,
An' dey 'point heem for go on de grande
moulin.
But w'en Aleck come dere for arrange affaire,
Ole Madame Denise she was mak' heem scare
For jus' on de minute she see hees face
She know right away all about de case
An' she tole Bazile t'row heem off de place.
Now de young Bazile he was t'ink good deal
Of Marie Louise an' he 's ready for keel
Any feller come foolin' aroun' de door
So he kick dat man till he 's feelin' sore,
An' Aleck he never got back no more.
If it 's true w'at dey say, Joe Boulanger
Was crazy to fight Irish man wan day
W'en he steal all de pork on hees dinner can,
Den it is n't so very hard onderstan'
Bazile Latour mus' be darn smart man.
For nobody know de poor feller Joe
W'en he 's come from de grande moulin below
'Cept hees moder, dat's tole heem mak' prom-
ise sure
Kip off on de mill, an' Bazile Latour,
(But it 's long before doctor can mak' heem
cure).
Den de ole Denise she was very please,
An' nex' day spik wit' Marie Louise,
'Ma girl, I got de right man for you
If you can only jus' love heem true,
Bazile dat young feller, I t'ink he 'll do.'
'Wall! Moder he 's poor, Bazile Latour,
But if you t'ink you will lak heem sure
I 'll try an' feex it mese'f some day
For you 've been de good moder wit' me
alway'
An' dat 's w'at Marie Louise she say.
So it 's comin' right affer all de fight,
An' de parish don't see de more finer sight
Dan w'en dey get marry on St. Germain
W'y de buggy she 's pilin' de w'ole chemin
All de way from de church to de grande moulin.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Old House And The New
Is it only twelve mont' I play de fool,
You're sure it 's correc' , ma dear?
I 'm glad for hearin' you spik dat way
For I t'ink it was twenty year,
Since leffin' de leetle ole house below,
I mak' wit' ma own two han'
For go on dat fine beeg place, up dere-
Mon Dieu! I'm de crazy man!
You 'member we 're not very riche, cherie,
Dat tam we 're beginnin' life!
Mese'f I'm twenty, an' you eighteen
W'en I 'm bringin' you home ma wife,
Many de worry an' troub' we got
An' some of dem was n't small,
But not very long dey bodder us
For we work an' forget dem all.
An' you was de savin' woman too,
Dere 's nobody beat you dere!
An' I laugh w'en I t'ink of de tam you go
Over on Trois Rivieres
For payin' de bank -you know how moche
We 're owin' for dat new place
W 'at was he sayin' de nice young man
Smilin' upon hees face
W'en he got dat monee was all pure gole
Come down on your familee
For honder year an' mebbe more?
'Ma-dame you 're excusin' me,
But w'ere was you gettin' dis nice gole coin
Of Louis Quatorze, hees tam
Wit' hees face on back of dem ev 'ry wan?
For dey 're purty scase now, Ma-dam?'
An' you say 'Dat 's not'ing at all M'sieu
Ma familee get dem t'ing,
I suppose it's very long tam ago,
W'en Louis Quatorze is King,
An' I'm sorry poor feller he 's comin' dead
An' not leevin here to-day
'Cos man should be good on hees frien', M'sieu'
W'en de monee he mak' dat way.'
Yass, ev 'ry wan know we 're workin' hard
An' savin' too all dem year,
But nobody see us starve ourse'f
Dere 's plaintee to eat, don 't fear-
Bimeby our chil'ren dey 're growin' up
So we're doin' de bes' we can
Settle dem off on de firse good chance
An' geevin' dem leetle lan'.
An'den de troub' is begin to show
W 'en our daughter poor Caroline
Sha marry dat lawyer on Trois Rivieres
De beeges' fool never seen!
Alway come home ev'ry summer sure
Bringin' her familee,
All right for de chil'ren, I don't min' dem;
But de husban'! sapree maudit!
I wish I was close ma ear right off
W'en he talk of our leetle house
Dough I know w'en familee's comin' home
Dere is n't moche room for a mouse,
He say 'Riche man lak youse'f can't leev'
On shaintee lak dis below,
W'en t'ousan' dollar will buil' fin' place
Up on de hill en haut.'
An' he talk about gallerie all aroun'
W'ere we sit on de summer night
Watchin' de star on de sky above
W'ile de moon she was shinin' bright,
Could plant some apple-tree dere, also,
An' flower, an' I dunno w'at,
An' w'en de sun he 's begin to rise
Look at de view we got!
Den he bring 'noder feller from Trois Rivieres
An' show w'at he call de plan
For makin' dem house on de w'ole contree-
Mon Dieu! how I hate dat man!
'Cos he 's talkin' away nearly all de tam
Lak trotter upon de race-
Wall! affer a w'ile we mak' our min'
For havin' dat nice new place.
So dey go ahead, an' we let dem go,
But stuff dey was t'row away;
I 'm watchin' for dat, an' I save mese'f
Mebbe twenty-five cent a day,
For you 're surely cheat if you don't tak' care
Very offen we fin' dat 's true,
An' affer de house she was finish up,
We 're geevin' it nam' Bellevue.
O! yass, I know we enjoy ourse'f
W'en our frien' dey was comin' roun'
An' say 'Dat 's very fine place you got;
Dere's not'ing upon de town,
Or anyw'ere else for honder mile
Dis house Bellevue can touch,
An' den let de horse eat de garden fence
Non! we don't enjoy dat so moche.
An' of course we can't say not'ing at all
For it 's not correc' t'ing you know-
But 'Never min' dat, an' please come again,
I'm sorry you got to go.'
Baptême! w'en I'm seeing beeg feller bus'
Our two dollar easy chair-
Can't help it at all, I got to go
Down on de cellar an' swear!
An' w'ere did we leev' on dat belle maison?
Wan room an' de kitchen, dat 's all
An' plaintee too for de man an' wife!
An' you 'member de tam I fall
Off on de gallerie wan dark night,
I los' mese'f tryin' fin'
De winder dere on de grande parloir,
For closin' it up de blin'?
An' al de tam de poor leetle house
Is down on de road below,
I t'ink she was jealous dat fine new place
Up on de hill en haut,
For O! she look lonesome by herse'f
De winder all broke an' gone-
No smoke on de chimney comin' out
No frien' stannin' dere-not wan.
You 'member too, w'en de fever come
An' ketch us wan winter day?
W'at he call de shaintee, our son-in-law,
Dat 's w'ere dey pass away
Xavier, Zoë. an' Euchariste
Our chil'ren wan, two, t'ree-
I offen t'ink of de room dey die,
An' I can't help cryin'-me.
So we 'll go on de ole house once again,
Long enough we been fool lak dis
Never min' w'at dey say bimeby, ma chere
But geeve me de leetle kiss,
Let dem stay on dat fine new place up dere
Our daughter an' son-in-law
For to-morrow soon as de sun will rise
We 're goin' back home- Hooraw!
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Old Sexton
I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store
Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.
An' of course on village lak dat you fin'
Some very nice girl if you have a min'
To look aroun', an' we got dem too-
But de fines' of all never wear a ring,
Since first I 'm t'inkin' of all dem t'ing,
Was daughter of ole Narcisse Beaulieu.
Narcisse he 's bedeau on de beeg church dere,
He also look affer de presbytere,
An' leev on de house close by,
On Sunday he 's watchin' de leetle boys,
Stoppin' dem kickin' up too much noise,
An' he bury de peop' w'en dey 're comin' die.
So dat 's w'at he do, Narcisse Beaulieu,
An' it 's not very easy I 'm tolin' you,
But a purty large heavy load,
For on summer de cow she was run aroun'
An' eat all de flower on de Curé 's groun'
An'before he can ketch her, p-s-s-t! she 's
down de road.
Dat 's not'ing at all, for w'en winter come
Narcisse got plaintee more work, ba gum!
Shovellin' snow till hees back was sore,
Makin' some track for de horse an' sleigh,
Kipin' look out dey don 't run away,
An' freezin' outside on de double door.
But w'enever de vault on de church is fill
Wit' de peop' was waitin' down dere ontil
Dey can go on de cimetière,
For fear dem student will come aroun'
An' tak' de poor dead folk off to town
Narcisse offen watch for dem all night dere.
An' de girl Josephine she 's her fader's pet,
He never see nobody lak her yet,
So w'en he 's goin' on St. Jerome
For travel about on some leetle tour
An' lef' her alone on de house, I'm sure
De house she 's all right w'en he 's comin'
home.
Wall! nearly t'ree year is come an' go,
De quietes' year de village know,
For dem student don 't show hees face,
An' de peop' is beginnin' to ax w'at for
Dey 're alway goin' on Ile Bizard
An' never pass on our place.
But it 's bully tam for de ole Narcisse,
An' w'en he 's lettin' heem go de pries'
For stay away two t'ree day
He t'ink of course it was purty good chance,
So he buy heem new coat an' pair of pants,
An' go see hees frien' noder side de bay.
An' dat very sam night, ba gosh! it seem
De girl 's not dreamin' some pleasan' dream
For she visit de worse place never seen
Down on T'ree Reever, an' near Kebeck
W'ere robber-man 's chokin' her on de neck-
De poor leetle Josephine!
So she 's risin' up den and she tak' de gun
An' off on de winder she quickly run
For fear she might need a shot
An' dem student he 's comin' across de square
Right on de front of de cimetière
An' carryin' somet'ing -you know w'at!
So she 's takin' good aim on de beeges' man
Abn' pull de trigger de hard she can,
An' he 's yellin' an' don he go,
Hees frien' dey say not'ing, but clear out quick,
Dat 's way Josephine she was playin' trick
On feller was treatin' poor dead folk so!
Den she kick up a row an' begin' to feel
Very sorry right off for de boy she keel
An' de nex' t'ing she 's startin' cry
An' call on her fader an' moder too,
Poor leetle Josephine Beaulieu,
An' wishin' she'd lak to die.
But she did n't die den, an' he 's leevin' yet-
Dat feller was comin' so near hees deat'-
For she nursin' heem back to life,
Dey 're feexin' it someway, I dunno how,
But dey 're marry an' leev'in de city now
An' she 's makin' heem firse classe wife.
An' Narcisse hese'f he was alway say,
'It 's fonny t'ing how it come dat way
But I 'm not very sorry at all,
Course I know ma son he 's not doin' right,
But man he was haulin' aroun' dat night
Is worse ole miser on Cote St. Paul.'
poem by William Henry Drummond
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